Like so many other world-class violinists Vilde 
                  Frang started taking lessons very early and was invited by Mariss 
                  Jansons to make her debut with the Oslo Philharmonic Orchestra 
                  at the age of twelve. I heard her some years ago playing Prokofiev’s 
                  second concerto and was amazed, not only by her impeccable technique 
                  - which is something one takes for granted nowadays - but for 
                  her innate musicality and sense of style. Her debut disc for 
                  EMI with the Sibelius and Prokofiev’s first concerto received 
                  glowing reviews (review 
                  review) 
                  and this new disc only confirms that impression. 
                    
                  The programme is quite unusual. Do these composers have anything 
                  in common? Well, in fact they have. Grieg and Strauss were both 
                  fairly young when they composed their sonatas, Grieg was 22 
                  and Strauss barely a year older. In both cases it is youthful, 
                  somewhat turgid music, full of vitality and promising well for 
                  their future. Grieg and Bartók have their folk music 
                  background in common, clearly discernible in both their works. 
                  Even though the link between Strauss and Bartók is weaker, 
                  it was when Bartók heard the Budapest premiere of Also 
                  sprach Zarathustra in 1902 that he decided to devote his 
                  life to composing. 
                    
                  The Grieg sonata flows with youthful freshness in the first 
                  movement with a Norwegian touch. The Norwegian element is far 
                  more assertive in the down-to-earth fiddling dance of the second 
                  movement, where Frang is tremendously assured and rhythmically 
                  alert. The third movement is full of thematic ideas and whirls 
                  forth with infectious flair. It’s a brilliant conclusion 
                  to an utterly stimulating work. The third sonata, more formally 
                  rounded, may be a greater master-piece but here, already, Grieg 
                  very distinctly shows his mettle. 
                    
                  With the Bartók sonata we move to a quite different world. 
                  Commissioned by Yehudi Menuhin and completed in March 1944 it 
                  is one of the composer’s last works. There are dissonances 
                  aplenty but also passages of immense beauty. The fugue is certainly 
                  tricky but fresher and more lively than most fugues. Balm is 
                  offered in abundance in the third movement, Melodia, 
                  which opens with a phrase that evokes memories of the slow movement 
                  of Brahms’ Double Concerto. Then it wanders down its own 
                  path - and very beautiful it is alternating brittle woodwind 
                  and rounded cello-deep melodies. The finale is the folk-dance 
                  equivalent of the Grieg sonata’s second movement, only 
                  even more uninhibited and unpredictable. The folk-music roots 
                  are never far away in Bartók’s music. 
                    
                  The first movement of Strauss’s sonata has the same exuberance 
                  as Grieg’s and an even more elaborate piano part. It’s 
                  the work of a young romantic where the blood pulsates wildly. 
                  The simplicity of the second movement is only temporary. Soon 
                  the music storms away, only to give way for what the title of 
                  the movement suggests: an elegant improvisatory excursion over 
                  arpeggio chords in the piano. The sombre opening of the finale 
                  is also a smoke-screen: this soon disperses and we are exposed 
                  to jolly caprices as well as a broad romantic canvas, painted 
                  with powerful brush-strokes. 
                    
                  Vilde Frang’s playing is overwhelming, natural, fluent 
                  and flexible. I wouldn’t say that charm is the first word 
                  that comes to mind when talking of Bartók’s solo 
                  sonata but Ms Frang’s playing has that elusive quality 
                  in whatever she approaches. Menuhin wrote in his autobiography, 
                  quoted in the liner-notes by David Nice: ‘when I saw it 
                  … I admit I was shaken, it seemed to me almost unplayable’ 
                  If ever Vilde Frang had similar thoughts there is not a trace 
                  of it. I have not made any comparisons for this review, simply 
                  because this coupling is, as far as I have been able to find 
                  out, unavailable anywhere else. But from the very first bars 
                  of the Grieg sonata and throughout this very well-filled disc, 
                  there is no doubt that we are listening to a master violinist. 
                  Michail Lifits at the piano seems to be her twin soul. With 
                  recorded sound out of EMI’s most exalted drawer this is 
                  a disc that goes to the top-ten-list of violin recordings. Give 
                  us more of Vilde Frang, please, EMI! 
                    
                  Göran Forsling